I Am A Tomb Raider
Now, you're probably asking yourself, what is a Tomb Raider? A Tomb Raider is a pony that enjoys finding old tombs in the middle of century old ruins, scavenging for ancient artifacts, and collecting them to study back at home where it's safe. You'd be surprised by just how much you can learn from something as simple as a clay mask or broken pot.
But Tomb Raiding can also be dangerous. Back when I was only a filly, I was just beginning to learn about Tomb Raiding with my father, Compass Needle. We were out on an exploration in the Badlands, I was all dressed up for the adventure. Brown shorts, a loose, blue t-shirt, a straw safari hat, and my lucky amulet. My father was looking over a map, pointing out different path and routes through the rocky outcrops toward a cave, and instead of choosing a path straight up the middle, he pointed out a path that went around it and was at least twice as long. I, still young and ignorant, wanted to know why.
"You never want to take a straight path through a rocky pass," he said. "There are too many dangers in there. Falling rocks, scorpions, and bandits. I hope you never cross the path of a bandit. They're pretty scary."
And, of course, I never listened.
I still have problems with rocks falling or dangerous animals, but the most common problem I have are the bandits. Ponies who either work alone, or who work for a larger corporation looking for the same valuables that I look for. And, sometimes, they come armed. That means that I have to come armed too. Many times, I've had to kill them. I don't like it. At all. But it's what I have to do to make sure they don't kill me first. That's why I try to avoid it as much as I can. I'm very skinny, tall, and agile, so I can usually manage to sneak around bandits instead of killing them. After all, they're usually bloody idiots anyway.
And even though bandits are the most common, they aren't the worst. Sometimes, an artifact is guarded by a curse. If a pony comes in contact with that curse, they can be hunted by ancient guardian spirits. I have never been able to kill one, since they're already dead, but I have escaped every time.
My first encounter with a guardian was back in an old, ruined temple in the Badlands several miles from Appleoosa. I was looking for and old mask from an old Griffon tribe named the Anistriati. I had to navigate my way down at least half a mile into the catacombs, only to find an empty treasure room, looted of any valuables long ago.
And as for the curse, it already knew I was there.
It was a black curse, which is a dark spirit that can be anything from an animal to a pony, but are made entirely of a black mist, and can float through the air at incredible speeds. But this one was just a black spirit. It had no specific form, but it was wearing the mask I was after. I had no idea what it was at the time, but I knew the mask. I scrambled as fast as I could back up through the catacombs, the spirit barely missing me, and I managed to find an old construction site, with several wooden catwalks and equipment held up by ropes. I got the idea to somehow outmaneuver the creature, run up the catwalks, and take cover on top of a suspended crate. The spirit came in shortly after, prowling the ground, looking for me. The crate, in some stroke of bad luck, creaked underneath me, and it looked up right at me. I heard it hiss, and knew now was my chance. I swung one of my climbing axes at the rope, cutting it loose, and the crate fell twenty feet to the ground, and I heard the mask break under the pressure. I'd lost the mask, but I dispersed the creature. When I finally got home, all I said was that the mask was already gone.
I've encountered several other spirits after that, each one centered around a different artifact, and now it's just another day at the office for me.
And my office is a ship. A ship I named, for that matter. I named it, "The Endeavor". I named it in honor of my father. He used to say that that every mission I went on was an endeavor. And this ship is what gets me to all of my endeavors. And it's a tough old thing, too. Made almost entirely of steel, from bow to stern, except for the wooden deck. It's about twenty years old, which means it was finished when I was born. My dad, being the adventurer that he is, said he didn't want to take it out on the water until my mother said I could come with him. She finally agreed, and all three of us went out on the water. My mother wasn't too thrilled, but my father and I were loving it. Especially me. My father told me I was laughing and giggling the whole time, and I was only a year old. He said adventuring was in my blood. And to this day, it still is, and I love it with a passion. My father died last year, killed for an artifact he owned, which the killer never found. We never found the killer. I was out on an expedition at the time, so I had to come home to the bad news. And his death only ignited my passion even more. No bandits, dangerous animals, risky landscapes, dark spirits, or even death itself can stop me from doing what I love.
My name is Golden Compass. And I am a Tomb Raider.